Give it Time
by CrisisKris
Summary: Logan tries to figure out where he fits in the new 'now'.


**Give it Time**

By Crisiskris

Disclaimer: In no alternate timeline do I now, have I ever, or will I ever own these characters.

Takes place immediately after X-Men:Days of Future Past.

* * *

It was late, but the sun was lingering on the edges of the horizon, letting the sky slowly settle into shades of grey and navy, a few small stars poking their white light through. Logan sat on the low step of the porch, cigar in hand, staring out at the curtain of green trees that masked the stone wall surrounding the school. He sighed. It was beautiful here, late Spring, the leaves out and the sun getting warmer every day. Good things were happening; the school was thriving. Jean, Scott, Xavier and Hank – and countless others – were still alive. It was a good day. A good future.

But he felt heavy, and he couldn't shake it.

There was a soft creaking sound as the screen door eased open behind him, followed by the low rumble of wheels on the wooden deck. Logan heard Charles stop just over his right shoulder. "It's alright to grieve," Charles said after a moment.

Logan whirled around to stare at the other man, his eyes wide. Then he scoffed, turning away. "What are you talking about?" he said gruffly. "I got nothing to be sad about." He pulled on his cigar, watching the smoke rise as he blew it out.

"Logan." Charles' voice was soft, understanding. Logan hated that tone. "You're carrying around the suffering of two different life times. It's alright to be sad about it." _You poor, poor man_, Logan heard in his mind, an echo of the past.

"Everything worked out. The future looks bright, wheels. You're alive, Scott – Jean…" He swallowed hard against her name. He shifted, turning again to look Charles in the eye. "I guess in this future, I don't declare my love for her?"

"In this future, you don't fall in love with her." Charles replied. "You don't need to – you're not…"

"Broken. Yeah. You mentioned." Logan stuck his cigar between his lips, popped a claw out. He held his hand out in front of his face, studying the bone. "No more adamantium skeleton. Yippee for me," he mumbled around the cigar. Then he popped the claw back in and pulled the stub from his lips, throwing it to the dirt and grinding it under a boot. He stood, stepped up to the porch, and leaned against the railing so that he could face Charles. "But that's the thing, Chuck. This body didn't go through that… that torture. But my mind remembers it. Just like I remember stumbling through the forest and the cage-fighting… just like I remember killing Jean –" He choked and looked away. "I remember all of it. But the good stuff – all those years in between when life was good after we saved the world or whatever. I don't have any of those memories."

"I know." Charles replied. "Logan, it's alright to grieve."

Logan looked down at his boots, hunching over his crossed arms. "I feel old, Charles."

"You are old, Logan. You've made many sacrifices – more than you know. But there isn't a limit on the joy that you can experience. You can keep going."

"I don't want to." The night felt colder now that he'd admitted it. "I just want it to end, Charles. I've lived long enough."

"Just give yourself a little more time. Give yourself the chance to heal." Logan heard the passion under the words and he glanced up, surprised. Charles was leaning forward in his chair, trying to capture his gaze. Their eyes met, and Charles continued. "Logan, in this timeline, after Raven rescues you from drowning, we stay in touch. Over all those years, everything you did, everywhere you went – we always kept in touch. I consider you my friend. I don't want to lose my friend."

Logan looked away, uncomfortable. "Your friend is gone, Chuck. He's not me. He just vanished and now I'm here."

"You're the same man."

"I don't think we are." Logan turned around, leaning on the porch rail to stare back out into the trees. "I'm the weapon Stryker poured hot metal into. I'm the animal who threw Sabretooth off the Statue of Liberty, the one who abandoned your school, your kids, so I could go chasing ghosts. I'm the monster that drove a stake through Jean's heart, wheels. That's who I am. And I'm the man who loves her. I love her. And she doesn't even know me here." He turned, feeling feverish, desperate, kneeling in front of Charles, grasping the arm rests of the wheelchair. "I don't belong here, Charles. I don't want to be here."

Charles reached out and grasped his shoulders. "Logan. Listen to me. You can find your way. Your story isn't over. You mustn't give up hope." _Now go to sleep_, he whispered, ruffling through Logan's mind.

Like a robot, Logan stood, heading for the door. "You turnin' in, wheels?" he asked.

"In a moment," Charles replied. "I thought I'd watch the stars a little first."

Logan shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, letting the screen door slam behind him.

Charles looked out at the dark outline of the trees ahead, waiting. A moment later, the door eased open and a lithe redhead came to stand beside him.

"That was fairly underhanded," Jean commented.

"I am a little out of my depth," he admitted, smiling up at her as she took over Logan's place, leaning back against the porch rail. "I'm not ready to give up on him, even if he is."

"You have to be careful, playing with people's minds, professor. You taught me that."

_If you only knew_, he thought, the image of the Phoenix, so clear in Logan's mind, rising now in Charles'. Jean looked at him with narrowed eyes, picking up on something but not comprehending it. Charles just shook the thought away, smiling up at his protégé. "I promise," he said aloud. "I won't keep it up. He just needs some time, and his instinct is always to run. I just want him here, safe, while he adjusts."

"He's very different," she remarked. "I wish – I wish I understood."

"It was a very different world," Charles replied. "We should just be grateful that we do not have to understand it."

She nodded. "When I'm near him, I can feel his… passion for me. He never used to… love me. He loves me now, professor. Were we – did we…?"

"It's complicated," Charles replied, "And it doesn't matter now. It's not true anymore, whatever it was."

"It matters to Logan. And it's making Scott jealous." _And me curious_, her mind said, even though she didn't speak the words.

_Maybe some things are immutable_, Charles reflected. Out loud, he laughed. "I never said it would be easy," he replied.


End file.
